


Of Affairs and Shared Love

by makingitwork



Series: Meet the Watsons [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Baker Street, AU, Brotherly Love, Child Moriarty, Child Mycroft, Child Sherlock, Dad John, Domestic, F/M, Family, Give it a go, Happy Ending, Happy Family, M/M, Moriarty is John's son, Mum Mary, Mycroft is John's son, Non-identical, Sherlock and Moriarty and Mycroft are brothers, Sherlock is John's son, Twins, aw, they're watsons, you'll like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3395177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Name: John Watson</p><p>Wife: Mary Watson</p><p>Children: (3 sons) aged 12- Mycroft. Non-identical, aged 5, twins- Sherlock and Moriarty. </p><p>Address: 221B Baker Street, London, NW2, 34Y</p><p>So; Moriarty, Sherlock and Mycroft and John's sons, and this is a fun little fic that I hope you enjoy :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Affairs and Shared Love

“Daddy!” James yelled “Sherlock broke my magnifying glass!”

“Daddy!” Sherlock jumped in “Moriarty broke my microscope!”

John blinked, letting the morning sunlight break into his line of sight, where his two five years olds, were stood in front of his bed, staring at him expectantly. John groaned, lifting up his arm, and they scurried into his warmth without coaxing. Sherlock tucked into his left, Moriarty into his right. “Good morning, my little geniuses,” he murmured, brushing his fingers through Sherlock’s curls, and his hand was firm on the nape of Moriarty’s neck.

“Daddy,” Sherlock pushed at John’s ribs “My microscope!”

“He broke my magnifying glass first!”

“And where was your brother when all of this happened?”

“I was making tea.” The twelve year old drawled from the doorway, and John smiled at him, as Mycroft passed him a cup of tea

“Good lad,” John murmured, and Mycroft tried not to be too pleased from the praise “Where’s your mother?”

“Killing the king of Sudan.” Mycroft murmured, examining a shard of glass on the floor, John groaned

“I thought that was last week?”

“That was the King of Arabia.”

“Mummy kills a lot of Kings,” Moriarty pointed out and Sherlock flicked him in the head

“Hey.” John warned, frowning, before sitting up “Mycroft, have they eaten?”

“Artie ate some toast, but Lockie decided he was too grown up to eat everything, and so spilt a glass of orange juice all over the kitchen table.”

“Don’t call us that!” The twins called indignantly, and John stumbled out of bed, carrying Moriarty and Sherlock on his hips and into the kitchen.

221B Baker Street was only just big enough for the five of them, they’d had to sweet talk Mrs Hudson into letting them use the upstairs attic, and it had been converted into a room for Moriarty and Sherlock, with bunk beds, and two desks for their numerous experiments. Mycroft’s room was on the second floor, the only room on the second floor, which gave Mycroft free reign of the corridor, and when he was 9, he’d forced Sherlock and Moriarty to pay a chocolate tax if they wanted to infringe on his territory and go downstairs.

John and Mary were on the first floor, near enough to the kitchen to smell if someone was going to set it on fire. Mrs Hudson remained on the ground floor, and came up on occasion to make sure everyone was well fed, but liked to remain downstairs, what with her hip and everything.

John set the twins down at the kitchen counter, before turning to Mycroft, and placing a hand to his forehead, Mycroft looked up at his father “You feelin’ alright?” John murmured, and Mycroft half smiled

“The common cold, I’ve already taken my temperature and applied the appropriate healing methods.”

“…right.”

“I mean- a smoothie, dad?”

John chuckled, ruffling Mycroft’s hair, much to his distaste, and set about finding some fruit. “I want a smoothie!” Sherlock cried, and John nodded, and Moriarty piped up

“Me too!”

And so that’s how John’s Saturday morning went. Blending enough fruit to feed a small nation, cleaning up the apartment, making sure the twins got dressed, and dealing with complaints from neighbours about Mycroft’s spy drone.

Mary came back at two o’clock, smiling brightly “Got him,” she beamed, kissing John, and he hugged her tightly

“Didn’t even leave a note this time,”

“I told Mycroft to tell you,”

“He did, but still, I worry,”

“Ceaselessly. Did I worry that time you and Mycroft went and diffused a bomb under Big Ben? No. I gave the twins their bath and read them a story.”

“I distinctly remember 27 voice messages.”

She nudged him playfully “I think you’re quite mistaken.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“I could get my phone to prove it.”

“No you couldn’t. Messages have been deleted.”

“So you’re saying they existed?”

“…no? Ah, there’s my little boy,” she grinned as Moriarty scampered into the living room, she pulled him in for a tight hug, and he nuzzled her cheek. Moriarty was a lovely child, with dark hair and dark eyes like his brother, and a delicate nose with supple cheeks. “What would you like to do today, hm?”

“Mycroft wouldn’t let me shave his hair!” Moriarty pouted, and Mary pressed a kiss to his temple

“The fiend,” she whispered in mock horror, and Moriarty giggled delightedly, when Sherlock bounded down the stairs, crossing his arms jealously

John laughed, scooping Sherlock up “I’ve got ya,”

Mycroft appeared then, “I’m going out.”

“Where?” John frowned “You’re sick-“

“Diogenes.”

“Mycroft,” Mary shook her head “I don’t like the thought of you spending all your time in that place. It’s scary. All those old men, it’s terrifying.”

“I just want to read, mum,” he sighed, holding up his book “God knows we never get a moments silent in this house.”

“Mycroft,” John set Sherlock down, walking over to his older son “Can I walk with you?”

Mycroft nodded.

The walk was slow, and amiable. John had always got on with Mycroft, his eldest was no less- perhaps more intelligent than his twins, but much more subtle and calm about it. An odd obsession with power dynamics, but could play the deduction game that all his children could. “So,” John looked to the sky “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Mycroft looked uncomfortable. He was only 12, but he was tall, tall and thin with a proud look about his face. Dressed in a smart button up and grey slacks, he didn’t have many friends, and a small problem with bullying that he had only recently overcome. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Mycroft…” John warned “I may not be able to deduce what you can, but I know when my son is upset.”

Mycroft clutched his book tighter “I’m just feeling resentful.”

John sighed “Not of your brothers again?”

“How am I supposed to feel-“

“Like my son.” John said firmly, grasping Mycroft’s arm and taking him by surprising “My eldest, _smartest_ son, Mycroft. If you think for a second that I love them more than I love you, you are wrong. I love you all the same. You understand? Do you know how often I thank the stars that you are normal? Well…normal, compared to them, anyway.”

“You didn’t…” Mycroft feels like a child, and bites his tongue in annoyance “Their room is right above mine, and I heard you last night, reading them a story and tucking them in, and I heard you walk right past my bedroom, and you didn’t come inside.”

John stares at him, and before Mycroft knows what’s happening, he’s being engulfed in a tight hug, and John’s kissing his head “What was in your room this morning, Mycroft?”

Mycroft has to think about it. He was woken up this morning by his mother whispering for him to tell dad she was leaving, and he’d promptly fallen back to sleep. But he thinks back, water. There was a glass of water. “Oh.”

“You were coughing at night.”

And he’d got up and fetched Mycroft water. The brunette looks down at the pavement “Sorry.”

“Never be sorry,” John ruffled his hair “Go to your club, want me to pick you up?”

“You don’t have t-“ he noticed the look on his dads face and nodded with a shy smile “Yeah, four o’clock?”

“I’ll be here.”

…

…

…

Sherlock stayed sat by the window, looking down and waiting for his daddy to get back. He clapped once he saw John and Moriarty jostled to sit on the window sill beside him. “Mycroft was upset earlier.” Moriarty said quietly, and Sherlock nodded

“I know.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“What are _we_ gonna do about it?”

John stepped into the flat, the warm smell of nearly done chicken and boiling carrots making him smile “I stopped down at Stanford’s, he and Lisa are fighting again.”

“That’s because Lisa’s cheating on him,” Moriarty sighed, and Sherlock nodded. Mary and John stared at them for a moment, before John shook his head

“Righto. Sherlock, Moriarty? Wanna come with me to pick up your brother? A nice walk before dinner?” They nodded, rushing to get their coats and shoes, and Mary threw him a grateful look, he kissed her softly “I’ll clean up their explosion tonight as well, you take a long bath and relax,”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“Dunno,” John breathed “You must’ve won the lottery or something.”

The cool evening air was refreshing, as Sherlock clung to his left hand and Moriarty to his right. They scampered along easily, sometimes rushing ahead to look at something, before coming back to John. They were oddly attached to their parents, whereas to nearly every other adult they were rude and insufferable. Fighting over attention was constant between the twins, but John hoped Mycroft knew how much he was cherished.

“Look! A rock!”

“Oh brilliant deduction, _Lockie.”_

“I meant, it’s a different type of rock to all the others on the street. Means it was caught in a hitchhikers shoe. Don’t be snappy because you didn’t get it, _Artie.”_

“Oh I got it-“

“Boys.” John smoothed his thumb over their tiny palms, and they looked up when Mycroft came out. Looking all the more relaxed and calm. Mycroft took Moriarty onto his back, and John took Sherlock, and they walked home in the red setting sun. Dinner was ready and waiting, and was eaten (mostly) without complaint. After a hectic day, Mary gave Sherlock and Moriarty their bath, while John tucked Mycroft in for an early night.

And then Mary went to have her own bath, and John tucked Moriarty and Sherlock into their bunk beds. Before cleaning the black marks from the wall of their bedroom. Both his twins lay on their side, watching him rub patiently at the marks. “Sorry daddy,” Moriarty murmured “I told Sherlock we needed safety glass.”

“We don’t own safety glass.” Sherlock snapped, but quietened down, feeling guilty “Sorry.”

Sherlock had the bottom bunk, Moriarty the top, they hadn’t even fought over it. Sherlock felt the bottom bunk was better as he could get out faster, and in case the ceiling fell down, he’d have time to leave as Moriarty got crushed. Moriarty felt that being higher meant he had a better view of the room, and that if the bunk bed collapsed, he’d be absolutely fine. “I don’t mind,” John murmured fondly “You’re my two little scientists. Just…no more trying to set eyeballs on fire. And stop asking Molly for eyeballs.”

“Molly likes us,” Sherlock chimed “She’s too easily wooed.”

“Well in her defence, you’re both rather innocent looking.” He admired the clean wall, tossing the wet rag in the bucket, and setting it down by the door. He kissed Moriarty’s cheek, and then leaned down to kiss Sherlock’s, admiring the way the forest brown curls tumbled into his eyes. “You both sleep well now, no waking up in the middle of the night and trying to scare Mrs Hudson.”

“G’night daddy,” they chimed in unison, and he smiled at them, leaving the door open, so a sliver of gold light swept in (much to the secret relief of the twins who would never admit they were scared of the dark).

In the early hours of the morning, while John and Mary relax in each other’s embrace, Sherlock and Moriarty sneak into Mycroft’s room, and snuggle into his sides and let him know that they love him, and Mycroft smiles fondly, and makes them breakfast, and then he helps them with an experiment.

When Mary and John hear the fire alarm, they roll their eyes, and decide it’s time for Sunday to begin.

**Author's Note:**

> A comment? PLEASE. It's my life.


End file.
